


Twin High-Maintenance Machines

by palindromicgirl



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: A little angst but mostly Soft, Canon Compliant, Canon-typical swearing, M/M, Pre-Epilogue, Raven King - Freeform, canon-typical alcohol use, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 03:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palindromicgirl/pseuds/palindromicgirl
Summary: "A timid knock shook Adam’s eyes back into focus, and even though that timidness was very out of character, he knew it was Ronan. And in some ways, it was very in character. Ronan had become more complicated since they started doing whatever it was they were doing, not less. Besides, Adam was pretty sure no one else had ever been to his apartment. "





	Twin High-Maintenance Machines

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally never written a fanfiction before but I listened to the Mountain Goats a lot this week and this just kinda happened. Keep an eye out for copious references to "This Year."

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since Adam’s hands were not his own. Two weeks since Ronan was unmade the same way he inhabited the world: vicious and pained, vicious and hopeful. Two weeks since Gansey fell from Blue’s arms, as small as he had ever been. 

The nightmares hadn’t let up. In the blue-black behind his eyelids, all Adam could see was the blue-black of the bruises his hands had left on Ronan. The blue-black of Gansey’s rain-soaked Aglionby sweater. When sleep finally pulled him under, he saw that thorn driving through his father’s palm over and over. The nightmare wasn’t about his own violence but about the thorn no longer existing. And someone else’s violence. He would jerk awake in a cold sweat, his ears empty of Cabeswater’s rustling whispers. It felt like he had lost the hearing in one ear all over again, his hammering heartbeat clawing up his throat.

It wasn’t time for that yet tonight. The sun was almost finished setting, the dim light streaming through St. Agnes’ tiny, dusty window a brilliant peachy pink. Adam had been trying to do his Calculus homework for exactly thirty-six minutes. He had watched those minutes tick down on his alarm clock. Maybe it was time for the nightmares, after all. He just wasn’t asleep yet. This was an unfamiliar discomfort for Adam. He could always count on work and more work to distract him from the things he needed to be distracted from.

Adam hadn’t seen Ronan in five days. Everyone knew he wasn’t coming back to Aglionby, but no official decision had been made. That wasn’t why Adam hadn’t seen him. They had fought, stupidly, over Adam choosing to return to his jobs and school all at once. Stupid, because Ronan hadn’t even objected to it, Adam had just felt like he had. He thought he felt a tacit disapproval; he felt guilty about not being able to spend enough time with Ronan; he had felt small and defensive and ready to distract himself with a fight. There had been cold, clipped words from Adam and explosive ones from Ronan. A slammed door. Tires peeling out of the parking lot. 

He wasn’t thinking about that; he was thinking about Ronan’s hand carding gently through his hair. He was thinking about the soft edges of Ronan’s eyes, grief making him quiet and untethered this time instead of loud and untethered like the last time. It was unnerving, Ronan touching him like something precious, something he desperately didn’t want to lose. That was another reason Adam had forced that fake argument.

A timid knock shook Adam’s eyes back into focus, and even though that timidness was very out of character, he knew it was Ronan. And in some ways, it was very in character. Ronan had become more complicated since they started doing whatever it was they were doing, not less. Besides, Adam was pretty sure no one else had ever been to his apartment. 

Adam pulled the door open, filled with trepidation and relief. He knew he was in the wrong, but hadn’t had the force of will to reach out. Ronan stood in the doorway, visibly unsteady; a bottle hung loosely from his hand. 

“Did you drive like that?” Adam asked, before he could stop himself. He winced at his own words. Not a great way to start a conversation with someone he wanted to apologize to.

“No. I started drinking after I got here,” Ronan said, his expression blurry and gently amused.

“In the car?” As always, Adam felt his eyes track down to Ronan’s neck of their own accord. The bruises were a hideous greenish yellow, like leaves just starting to turn. That first night, Ronan had held Adam’s hands to his neck wordlessly and stared into Adam’s eyes, his gaze like a lava flow. They hadn’t talked about it, but that had made it better. A little. Adam hadn’t seen the bruises in five days and seeing them again felt like being electrocuted.

“Yeah. I tried to come up here sober but I couldn’t fucking do it.” He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, biting down hard. Like speaking was physically painful.

“I missed you,” Adam said, surprising himself. 

Ronan stepped forward and raised his hand to Adam’s face; he pressed his thumb between Adam’s brows where they were furrowed together. He moved with exaggerated slowness, like he was anticipating Adam flinching away. Adam didn’t blame him, but he didn’t move. Ronan smiled at this and slid his hand into Adam’s hair like he had just been thinking about. Adam leaned into the touch for a few seconds and then tugged Ronan through the door by his waist.

The sun had completely set by now and the harsh fluorescent light cast Ronan’s sharp features into even sharper lines. The door clicked shut behind them, seeming quieter than usual to match the hushed moment.

“Me too,” Ronan mumbled, belatedly. He was still smiling and Adam was completely overwhelmed. Ronan’s hand was so warm where it was still tangled into his hair.

“So, what are you drinking?” Adam asked, desperate to break this moment into pieces that were less vast than the gentle, fond feeling rising in his stomach. He was successful, Ronan tensed.

“Scotch,” Ronan said, and he pulled away to set the bottle on the desk behind him, “I’m celebrating.”

“Celebrating?”

“Well, you let me into your fucking apartment, didn’t you? Jesus Christ, Parrish. I thought,” He stopped and took a deep breath, pointedly looking away from Adam. He had been so close, pressed into Adam's personal bubble like he belonged there. Now he was far enough away that Adam would have to step forward to touch him. He didn’t and waited Ronan out, letting him finish. “Shit. I should be sober for this. But I just. I thought you didn’t fucking want me here. I thought you were done. And I drove here six goddamn times in the past five days. It took the scotch to actually walk up here… I know you don’t fucking like it when I’m drunk.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. Drunk usually meant fear for Adam. Drunk usually meant flinching. But Adam trusted Ronan so much, it was fucking terrifying. This moment felt so safe that it was bending around again to danger. His heart was crashing and kicking in his chest and he stepped forward, not to Ronan but to the bottle. He unscrewed the cap and caught eyes with Ronan, seeing the surprise and caution waiting there. He took a long pull; it tasted bitter and clean. It wasn’t the first time that Adam had drank, but it was the first time he’d had liquor from higher than the bottom shelf. He didn’t want to know how much Ronan had paid for the bottle. Ronan’s expression was completely baffled and awed, maybe a little turned on. 

“I think I might need to be drunk for this conversation too.”

“Fucking hell, Adam.” 

“I’m kidding. Mostly.” Adam said, pausing to drop heavily into his desk chair and set the bottle down, “I’m not afraid of you. You don’t have to.” He stopped again, his brain’s motor screaming headily, “You don’t have to be so careful.”

Ronan just stared at him. He sat across from Adam, on the bed. It was just a mattress on the floor, and Ronan stretched his legs out, his foot a couple inches away from him. Adam resisted the urge to bump his foot against his, to lighten the moment. Ronan crossed his arms across his chest and finally spoke, “Okay. I guess you of all people have to be a dramatic motherfucker and take a pull to explain that to me.” It was a joke, but his voice was tight. So, it wasn’t really a joke.

“Look… I know the fight was my fault, okay?” He took a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair, watched as Ronan’s eyes tracked the movement. “I should be showing up at your doorstep.”

“I mean, I let it happen too. I left. Don’t take this all on yourself, Parrish. We both fucked up. You being a workaholic asshole? Yeah, I don’t like it. But it’s you. I’m not going to fucking take that away from you. And I should’ve made sure you knew that… I know you. Your brain fucking stalling out on second gear, I saw it happening.”

_I know you._

Adam couldn’t stand it in anymore. He stood up and launched himself across the room, sitting next to Ronan and crushing himself up against his side. Like it was an instinct, Ronan shifted and wrapped his arm around Adam’s waist, pulling him further into his space. It was easier to talk to him now that Adam couldn’t see his face, “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry, anyway.”

“Me too.” Ronan said, in the same tone he had before, about missing him. They were so close, Adam could feel Ronan’s heartbeat everywhere. He was starting to feel the alcohol too, making everything a little softer, the gentleness and fondness humming in his blood again. Sharp, snakelike Ronan Lynch pressed his lips into the crown of Adam’s head and let out a soft, contented sound. They sat there for a while, not talking, until Adam’s arm started to go numb. He told Ronan as much. 

“Way to ruin a fucking moment, Parrish.” 

Adam looked up at him and said, “My specialty.” He rolled onto his back, pulling on Ronan insistently until he let out a huff, toed off his shoes, and laid next to Adam on his side. 

“So, do you like the scotch?” Ronan asked, taking one of Adam’s hands and pressing a kiss to the center of his palm.

“Not as much as you like my hands, you fucking weirdo.” 

Ronan didn’t even bother looking offended. He somehow managed to shrug coolly while lying on his side and said, “That still leaves a lot of liking.” 

Adam blushed and pulled Ronan into a kiss, like he had been wanting to since he got there. Ronan smiled into it and shifted so his whole body weight pressed onto Adam, holding himself up on his forearms. Adam couldn’t recall ever being so warm, so comfortable. The shitty mattress beneath him, rusty springs and all, transformed into a shiny-new furniture store masterpiece. They kissed, lazy and sleepy, both from the alcohol and how little they had been sleeping. 

After a while, they stopped, and Ronan buried his head in Adam’s neck. Before he could lose his resolve, Adam said, “We’re going to make it through this.”

Ronan nuzzled into his neck, and murmured, “If it kills me,” his voice riding the knife’s edge between mocking and dead serious. Adam paused, not sure how he should react. Two weeks ago, Ronan had almost died. Two weeks ago, he had almost been killed by Adam, and then almost by killed by an actual demon. Two weeks ago, Gansey had died.

But Ronan didn’t die, and Gansey came back. 

Adam laughed and after a second, Ronan joined him, their laughter melting into each other. “You fucking asshole,” Adam said after he could breathe again. 

Ronan pushed himself up and sat leaning against the wall, his legs draped over Adam’s. He reached out to take Adam’s hand again and said brusquely, “Tell me about your last five days.”

“Very domestic, Lynch.” 

“Oh, fuck off. You just quoted the Mountain Goats at me. Who are you, Blue?”

“You recognized it.”

“That might as well be a song about you. How could I not?”

“You’re just digging a deeper hole, here,” Adam said, feeling the smile pulling his cheeks. He kissed Ronan’s palm like Ronan had with his earlier. 

Ronan’s breath hitched, and he whispered, “God, how did I stay away from you for five days?”

Adam didn’t have anything flippant to say, and didn’t know how to say something the right type of genuine. He just locked eyes with Ronan and kissed his palm again, trying to convey that right type of genuine with his eyes. Ronan looked away sharply, like he was just as overwhelmed as Adam was. Adam dropped his hand, letting him have the moment to collect himself. 

He rolled over on his stomach and said, “We should sleep.” Ronan let out a breathless laugh and slumped down on his side next to Adam again. He reached up and gently trailed his fingers up and down Adam’s back. Adam’s brain short-circuited. He could understand their heated kisses; he could even understand Ronan’s tender kisses to his palms. They were teenagers, and Ronan was nothing if not a romantic (and a Romantic). Also, obsessed with his hands. But this? This was the kind of meaningless affection that he’d literally never experienced. He pressed his forehead into the mattress and held his breath for a couple seconds. Ronan must have felt him tense because he made a soft questioning noise and stopped moving his hand. Adam forced himself to let out the breath, to let himself relax. He shook his head against the mattress awkwardly, hoping Ronan would get what he meant without asking. 

“Hey, look at me,” Ronan said, taking his hand off Adam’s back entirely. After a beat, Adam rolled towards him. They were close enough that Ronan’s eyes kept going in and out of focus in his vision. His good ear was pressed into the mattress and Ronan realized this after a second. He sat up and crawled awkwardly to the other side of Adam so that they could face each other and he could hear. Adam’s heart seized at the gesture and it took him another second to turn back the other way. 

“Weren’t we in this position earlier? Why did we move around so much?” Adam asked, covering the continuing meltdown he was experiencing. 

“Excuse me, you were lying on your back before, not your side. Literally fight me,” Ronan said. He paused and brought his wrist up to his mouth, chewing on a bracelet for a considering moment, “Why’d you tense up like that? Was I being too much?”

“You’re always too much,” Adam said, the words coming out much softer than he had meant them to.

Ronan’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to speak, but immediately closed it. Adam watched his face flicker through a series of emotions and then he spoke, “My mom used to rub my back when I couldn’t sleep. Fucking funny, when you think about it. Dream-person helping dream-maker fall asleep. Anyway… I guess shit like that is probably pretty new to you.”

_I know you._

“Yeah,” Adam breathed, pressing a quick kiss to Ronan’s mouth and then leaning his forehead against his, “Thanks.” Adam tucked his hand underneath the hem of Ronan’s shirt and stroked his side gently. They drifted to sleep, tired enough to leave the light on.


End file.
